


The Spider and the Jaggalor

by DT Maxwell (Draya)



Series: Our Blades Are Sharp [17]
Category: Star Wars: The Old Republic
Genre: Blood and Gore, Gen, Oricon, Sith Shenanigans, Sith friendships are weird, Sphere of Ancient Knowledge, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-02-03 11:03:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1742441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draya/pseuds/DT%20Maxwell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Seer and an Assassin go to Oricon, ostensibly for research purposes and to recover artifacts stolen by the Dread Masters.</p><p>Things die. <em>Messily.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Spider and the Jaggalor

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to my [tumblr](http://dragons-bones.tumblr.com/post/68188655079/heres-a-prompt-for-you-valere-and-phae-go-to-oricon) in November 2013, in response to the prompt, "Valere and Phae go to Oricon."
> 
> Oh, dear.
> 
> (Darth Valere belongs to infiniteprobabilities.)

Darth Makhaira wasn’t entirely sure acquiescing to Darth Valere’s request to accompany her to Oricon had been one of her better ideas. (Primarily, this was because she was very, very certain that if anything happened to his wife, Darth Exvind would string her up by her intestines and flay her alive, and that would be if he was feeling _nice._ Well, that was the most probable outcome, anyway. It was rather difficult to tell with Darth Exvind; he might just give her a box of organs, instead.) Still, Makhaira was reasonably certain that Valere was fond of her, and the Dread Masters couldn’t drive Darth Valere any madder than she already was, so having the white-haired Sith along was probably Darth Makhaira’s own best protection against insanity, with Valere distracting the Dread Masters while Makhaira handled the hordes of the Dread Masters’ minions with her ‘saber and knives.

Also, Valere was nowhere near as defenseless as she appeared, and, really, she was a Darth. She’d earned that title fair and square.

So Darth Makhaira was reminded as she stared at the squad of Dread soldiers hanging in the air with the Force. Darth Valere, standing next to her, hummed three notes, and repeated the sequence as, with a flick of her wrist, the soldiers began screaming and their bodies began to _melt._

Flesh and armor pooled on the cracked ground and sizzled, the smell of cooking meat mixing with that of smoke and brimstone. Phae’s jaw slowly dropped open.

(The gleeful six-year old in Phae that came out when she saw varactyls or jaggalors or pretty-pretty knives was jumping up and down and shouting, _That was AWESOME!_ )

“Valere,” Phae said slowly, equal parts disturbed and impressed. “What did you do?”

The doll-like Sith smiled beatifically. “Their minds had already been ground into paste and jelly,” she said, voice lilting, though not quite sing-song. “I decided their outsides should match.” She frowned and wrinkled her nose. “Not good for sandwiches any longer, though. F-a-a-a-r too rotten to be useful.” Valere hummed a chirpy tune Phae thought might have been Alderaanian, gathered up her robes, and stepped neatly over the cooling remains of the squad to continue on her way.

Phae blinked once, twice, a third time as she processed this new development. Smiled, slow and wide and predatory, and bounded after the other Darth.

She stood corrected: this had been a _fantastic_ idea.


End file.
